Every day, my heart and mind wrestle over my right to remain silent.
One believes it is a sacred duty. The other, the ultimate betrayal.
And that's the tricky thing about glass fractals left teetering (unbalanced!) on the edge of singularity... They tend to slip, sooner or later, beyond the event horizon.
But if something fragile but beautiful falls down into the belly of a beast, where nobody can hear it shatter... can it ever really be considered broken?
Or is it just gone?
Perhaps it's neither. Perhaps it lurks within the shadows of memoric tides; pulling, pulling, pushing, pushing. An endless cycle of spooky action at a distance // chords struck relentlessly through space and time // wringing out eternity but invisible just the same.
A ship drawn to perilous shores by boundless bright light, a moth in search of a flame.
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